


The Dame

by AXEe



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, Femme Fatale Astra, Film Noir AU, Gen, Private Eye Alex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 10:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12130917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AXEe/pseuds/AXEe
Summary: The girl was young, mousy.  The job was simple, find her long lost aunt.  Simple right?WrongORA General Danvers film noir AU





	1. The Job

**Author's Note:**

> More GD fics from me! This time we're going film noir, why you ask? Because I said so! That's why!!! :=). Enjoy~

******

**The 1940s…**

It was foggy and grey when the girl stepped into my office. A cold, dreary kind of day. The kind that makes you feel all sad and depressed because you know that the rest of the day is going to be just as grey and cold and dreary.

The girl was young, probably about twenty something; her blonde hair was neatly tucked up under her hat. Her clothes were plain and old fashioned. Frankly she looked to me like a librarian who got dressed in the dark

“Uh…I’m looking for ‘Danvers Investigations’?” her voice was timid, uncertain, like she was afraid of saying the wrong thing

“This is it” I told her as I leaned back in my chair

“Uh,” she looked down at the scarp of paper in her hand and then back up at me “are you…no, do you know where I can find ‘Alex Danvers’?”

“You’re looking at her, kiddo,” I told her. She blinked, her eyes going wide as saucers behind her big, oversized glasses “what? You got a problem with a girl being a P.I.?” I asked “you don’t think I can do it? Is that it?”

“Oh, no,” she shook her head so fast I was surprised it didn’t fall off “no,” she groped around for a chair, finally sinking into the old moth-eaten armchair in front of my desk “no, not at all, it’s just…surprising” she added

“’Alex’ is short for ‘Alexandra’,” I explained “my father started the Agency, left it to me in his will. About all he could leave me,” I waved it off as I got up and poured myself a cup of stale coffee “you want one?” I offered, but the girl shook her head as I sat back down “so,” I took a sip of the coffee “what do you need?”

“Need…oh!” she dug around in her handbag, pulling out wads of tissue, old receipts, and some makeup “ah,” she held up a crumpled slip of paper “I want to find someone for me,” she explained holding it out to me “its my aunt,” she explained “she and my mother…well, let’s just say that they had a…falling out. I haven’t seen her—my aunt that is—for nearly twelve years, I don’t even know if she’s still alive, but, if she is…”

I nodded as I examined the picture, it was a snapshot, grainy and little unfocused. It showed a pretty brunette with a streak of white in her hair, pretty thing, but hard to tell with a silly little snapshot like this

“Why do you want to find her now?” I asked “why wait twelve years?”

“My mother,” the girl took a breath “my name is Kara Zorel,” she began “my aunt is ‘Astra Inze’ and my mother was ‘Alura Zorel’. Anyway, after the falling out, my mother told me that Aunt Astra was dead, that she died in a car crash”

“Which wasn’t true I take it?” I guessed, Ms. Zorel shook her head

“No. A few weeks ago my mother passed away, on her deathbed she told me that my aunt was still alive and was still somewhere here in National City. Please,” she leaned forward on the desk, her hands clasped together tighter than a gambler’s on Sunday mass “she’s all the family I have left, even if she doesn’t want to see me, I just…I just _need_ to _know_ ”

I sighed; I’d heard my share of sob stories. In this business you tend to hear them every other day it seemed. But this kid, Kara Zorel, was about the most honest girl I’d ever met, she probably could recite the whole damn Bible chapter and verse from heart

“It’ll cost you three hundred and fifty a day, plus expenses,” I told her “that all right?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” she dove into her handbag again and unearthed a handful of crumpled up bills—mostly ones and fives that could see—and enough coins to put the mint to shame “is, is that enough?” she asked as the last nickel finished rolling around. It wasn’t enough, nowhere near, she barely had a full hundred there, much less my usual fee. But, god damn it, I felt for the kid

“Just enough” I lied as smooth as silk. As I expected, Miss. Honest Kara Zorel took me at my word. What can I say, I’ve got a big heart. Plus it was a simple missing person’s case. How hard could it be I thought.

If I knew then what I know now, I might have said ‘no’. Hell, I _should_ have no. But hell if the girl didn’t get to me. Plus, even through a grainy, blurry snapshot, there was something about Astra Inze that drew me in like a moth to a flame…


	2. That Old Black Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update (warning for some out of date opinions on homosexuality)

******

Searching for a missing person in a city the size of NC is like trying to find sense in a philosophy book: you spend hours and get nowhere. With little info to go on, I was forced to go hunting through the only newspapers at the library and the Hall of Records, finding one Astra Inze listed at having been born along with her twin sister back during the Depression. A bit of further digging revealed that both sisters were majors in music. The older twin, Alura Zorel, never followed through, she got married, settled down, and had a kid.

Her sister Astra, on the other hand, was bit more…unconventional.

A friend of mine at NCPD told me that there were a couple of arrests for Astra Inze for ‘lewd behavior’, apparently Miss. Kara ‘Honest’ Zorel’s beloved aunt liked to hang around other women. _Intimately_ , if you get my meaning. Most other PI’s would have either just dropped the case or charged Miss. Zorel double by now, and I’ll admit the thought of charging the poor kid double did cross my mind, if anything I needed food to eat and money to pay bills, but I decided not to, and just gave her a generic update, no need to tell the poor thing that her beloved aunt was a pervert.

Leaving the Hall of Records with a few copies and a headache, I took a shortcut to my office and that’s when I found it.

There’s a club called the ‘Green Lady’ a few doors down from my office. A dive really, probably run by the mob and used a front for money laundering to be honest, I pass it almost everyday to and from work. But it was the poster out front that caught my attention

Ashley Inzeli. The Siren of Our Times!!!’

It boosted. But that face, that lock of white in a curtain of dark hair. It was my missing person. She’d changed her name and apparently tried to change her look, but it was her, just a few years older.

Slipping into the club, I found a seat in the corner and sat down, waving off the waitress. I was right on time, the show was about to start. The band struck up a slow tune and out she came from behind the curtain and up to the microphone

That piece of shit snapshot didn’t do her justice. Not one bit.

Her hair was much darker in real life, brushed to a glowing shine, the streak of white—which she was trying to hide with some pins—only enhanced her looks. She was dressed in a short, sequined black dress which showed off her long legs, both of which were wrapped in a expensive-looking pair of nylons. Her eyes were not blue I realized, like they looked in the snapshot, but a striking, smoky grey-green.

And then…then she started to sing

“ _That old black magic  
Has me in it spell  
That old black magic that you weave so well  
The icy fingers up and down my spine_

_The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine  
The same old tingle that I feel inside  
And then that elevator starts its rise_

_And down and down I go  
Round and round I go  
Like a leaf that’s caught in the cloud_

_I should stay away  
But what can I do?  
I hear your name  
And I’m aflame_

_The flame it starts a burning desire  
And only your kiss can put out the fire  
So you’re the lover that I have waited for  
The mate that fate had me created for  
And every time that your lips meet mine  
Darling…down and down I go…_”

Her voice was smoky and husky, not at all like how I imagined. The words curled around the room like cigar smoke as she wound and slithered her way around the room like the Serpent around Eve in the Garden. Seeing her in the flesh and hearing her sing did something to me.

I _wanted_ her

Badly. I wanted her like a drink wants that next shot of bourbon. I wanted her for myself and to hell with my client, just me and her on some lonely tropical beach somewhere. I dug my fingers into the tablecloth, balling my hands into fists as she finished her song, gave the howling crowd a little bow and a smile and then slinked her way over through a curtained off area of the main room. Slowly, unhooking my hands from the tablecloth, I managed to shakily make my over to the curtain on shaky legs, only to be stopped by a big guy in a suit

“Private party, honey” he grunted. Despite the ill manners, he was wearing a thousand dollar suit

“I just need to talk to my friend,” I lied “she’s just in there”

“You can talk to her later,” he grunted “now scram”

“Come on,” I pleaded, turning on the charm “please? It’ll only take a minute” for a second he looked like he might give in, but then he shook his head

“Beat it, broad” he ordered…

******

Hanging around the club for a little while longer, I soon saw Ms. Inze exit the curtained area and then slip backstage. Getting up, I quickly followed her, thankful that I decided not to wear heels today. Hiding behind a cello case, I saw her slip into a dressing room. Making sure I wasn’t being watched, I tiptoed over to the dressing room and crouched down, trying to peer through the keyhole. Suddenly the door was thrown open and I fell in faster than a paratroop leaping from a burning plane.

A slender but strong hand suddenly grabbed me by my hair and hauled me up and _slammed_ into the makeup vanity.

Ms. Astra Inze was about twenty times more beautiful in person. Even when she was holding a gun to my head…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "That Old Black Magic" by Harold Arlen and Jonnie Mercer


	3. Pretty Lies

******

The gun was a Derringer, silver plated with a pearl handle. Definitely a gift from Astra Inze’s mobster boyfriend

“Who are you?” she demanded, pressing the barrel of the peashooter closer to my temple

“I’m a PI,” I grunted out, trying to wriggle out the chokehold her had me in with her other hand, but damn, was she strong “your…niece…Kara…hired me” I panted out

She let out a _growl_ and pressed the gun closer, I could see her finger tightening on the trigger “My niece is dead!” she hissed “now, who are you?!”

I shook my head “No…she’s alive” I could feel the barrel of the gun cutting into my skin

“Did he send you?” she demanded “figured I might be more willing to cough up the information to another woman?!”

“What are you talking about?!” I demanded, finally wrenching myself free of her chokehold, spinning away from her even as she swung the gun up to follow me “look,” I held up my hands “a woman named ‘Kara Zorel’ hired me,” I explained “wanted me to find her long-lost aunt, Astra Inze. Which is _you_ , right?”

“Her mother’s name”

“What?” I wheezed

“The woman who hired you! What was her mother’s name?!” she all but roared, her finger tightening on the trigger

“Alura! Alura Zorel!” I practically shouted

She froze, and then slowly lowered the gun “Take me to her” she ordered, and I got the impression that she was a woman who usually got what she wanted

“All right,” I answered “let me call her and tell her the good news first, all right? You got a phone around here?”

Her eyes narrowed and the gun swung up at my face again “Nice try” she hissed

“God are you paranoid or what!” I reached into my coat and pulled out the scrap of paper I’d written down Kara’s phone number and address on “here! Call her yourself!”

Still keeping the gun trained on me, she snatched the paper from me and then edged back to a plain phone tucked into a corner on the vanity “Operator? Get me…Glenview 9989,” she kept watching me like a hawk as the operator connected the call “what?” she suddenly hissed “are you sure?...I see…no, thank you, that’s quite all right?”

“What? What is it?” I asked as she hung up and marched towards me

“The number’s disconnected,” she hissed “now tell me who you’re working for?!”

“Disconnected?” I hissed, I suddenly had a bad feeling in my gut “come on, something’s wrong”

“Stay right there!”

“Look, lady! Right now I don’t give a shit whether you’re going to shoot me or not!” I snapped “but something is _wrong_ , your niece could be hurt. Or worse. Now, if you want to take that chance, then fine! Go ahead! Shoot me! I don’t care! Because I know that you don’t have the _guts_ to kill someone in cold-blood!”

She stared at me for a long moment. And then, she gently eased the hammer of the gun forward

“If you’re lying to me…”

“…then you can shoot me all you want,” I rolled my eyes “now, _come on!_ Let’s go!”

******

Kara Zorel lived in a modest little bungalow just outside the city. The place was old and worn, probably inherited from her mother, I figured. I kept a wary eye on Astra as we climbed out of her car (she’d insisted on driving, and since she was the one carrying the gun, I wasn’t about to argue with her). Walking up the steps to the porch, I tensed as I saw that the door had clearly been forced open, bits of wood littered the welcome mat like feathers from a freshly-plucked goose.

Feeling a little worried at what I’d find inside, I nudged the door open with my elbow. The inside of the place might have been nice at point, even charming and quaint. But not now. Someone had clearly smashed through the place like a bull in a china shop. I sidestepped shards of broken glass as I slipped inside the front room, Astra following close behind

“Kara?” I called out “it’s Alex Danvers”

A whimper came from behind the couch. Feeling something twist in my gut I rushed around the back of the couch and felt sick at what I saw

“Oh...you poor kid,” I crouched down and helped Kara sit up “easy, easy,” I warned “you all right?” I asked as I checked her over, feeling my anger boil over as I saw her injuries. Someone had clearly broken in, probably looking for information about her aunt, judging from the aunt’s paranoia, and then when Kara didn’t tell them---whoever ‘they’ were—what they wanted to know, they’d beat her, and I don’t mean smacked her around a little bit. I mean the bastards _beat_ her.

Her nose was clearly broken, and one eye was bruised and swollen shut, and that was just what I could _see_.

Kara suddenly jerked “I don’t know! I don’t know!” she panted out

“Hey, hey, kid!” I gripped her shoulders “hey, it’s me, it’s Alex. Remember? You thought I was a guy?”

She jerked and seemed to come back to the world “Alex?” she repeated, staring at me “Alex! My, my aunt! You, you have to find her!”

“Hey, hey, easy, easy,” I told her, trying to calm her down “I already did,” I turned back to Astra, who just stood there, staring with this strange look of horror on her face “don’t just stand there! Call an ambulance!” I roared…

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought :=)


End file.
